The Squire Quartet. Brian Aldiss
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Who will like to reply to him?’
Carlo Morabito immediately rose, folding his arms tightly across his chest.
‘I will speak in my English and can be translated. I like just to make complaint about the racialist streak in the paper of Dr Krawstadt. When he speaks of cosmopolitanism, he is speaking secretly of the Jews. The whole paper is of course a veiled attack on Jews, against which communist nations have always been hostile, with the honourable exception of maybe Yugoslavia. Delegates should be aware when they are getting poison.’
He sat down again.
‘Perhaps Herr Krawstadt would care to amplify after such remarks,’ Frenza’s interpreter said.
Krawstadt rose, scratching his chin and lower lip.
‘These interjections are to cause a confusion in the advisement I need from other delegates. This is a new field, and, as with popular arts, sociology is combined with it. I hear in my ear the familiar cry of the Right that their political beliefs are not political at all but a part of nature. But if I look at a privileged gentlemen’s park in America or England or my own country, what’s there is for me not just vegetables but I see the exploitive system of privilege behind it. Viewpoints are entirely different.
‘With the pinball, the same applies. How is it like a paperback or an LP? It waits brightly painted for when a man is a bit drunk to take his money, like a prostitute. Is prostitution also part of American “entertainments industry” also? At least in the socialist countries prostitution and exploitation of women is abolished, and the sport and games is free of betting and gambling. Pinball is gambling without sport.
‘One thing I agree with the other speaker. Let’s leave out the politics and get proper scholarship.’
He sat down, to nods of approval round the table.
Squire rose.
‘Just a point of fact. Two points. First, prostitution may be ruthlessly repressed, like so much else in socialist countries, yet it still exists. I have been solicited by prostitutes myself in the heart of Moscow. To that I have little or no objection; I’m a big boy; my objection is to being told afterwards that I was not solicited. It is that sort of barefaced lie, among other things, which gives communism such a bad name. The end justifies the means always, doesn’t it?
‘Then that bit about sport. Directly Moscow was chosen as the site of the Olympic Games in 1980, all residential and what we in the West would call private building was halted. The whole ramshackle building industry was forced to work on the stadia and accommodation for the Olympics.
‘If you were having a dacha built – no matter in whatsoever state of completion you were left, the builders walked off one morning and left you standing there. Thus the rulers of the country drop the Muscovites in a condition of discomfort or misery to suit their political ends. Don’t tell me there are no politics in sport or art except what is introduced by the Right. It’s another totalitarian lie.’
He sat down. From the seat next to him, d’Exiteuil rose, smiling down on Squire as he said in English, ‘Well, a display of Churchillian fireworks from Tom Squire, as we might expect, and the oratory of his usual high standard – the voice of the man who made “Frankenstein Among the Arts”. It is a pleasure on which we can congratulate ourselves that our associations and this conference in particular can accommodate such extreme conservatism as Squire’s and Professor Cantania’s along with more sociologically oriented items. However, the Olympic Games have little to do with pintables, on which subject Herr Krawstadt contributed much to our enlightenment, and so I suggest we move on to the next paper.
‘We must not exercise our prejudices, we must conquer them. I believe with the philosopher Mary Warnock that imagination is important here, and must be applied to our field of study. If we could come to a greater understanding of imagination – which may as likely come through pintables as through anything else – then we should understand a great deal more than we do about prejudice, perception, and such values as aesthetic pleasure. Perhaps we’ll invite contributions on the subject of imagination to Intergraphic Studies. Thank you.’
The next paper, on the typography of cartography, passed peacefully, although there was a marked increase in small activities during it, both among the delegates round the table and in the spectators sitting in the gallery at the far end. Indeed, the gallery gradually became crowded, as if by some magical form of communication ordinary passers-by in the street had heard that a political argument was brewing and had come in to see for themselves what was happening. After sitting restlessly for a while, some of them departed, finding that the subject under discussion was totally innocuous; yet still the gallery filled as others took their place. Most visitors looked like students. Among them were some attractive young girls, who regarded the spectacle provided with complete assurance. Many of them gazed at Selina Ajdini thoughtfully for a while.
Ajdini was one of the stillest delegates, although she smoked continuously throughout the meeting. The other delegates shuffled in their places, made eye-signals, took notes, tapped at their headphones, drank mineral water, at a greater rate than was usual.
When the afternoon session was over, Squire rose to go, only to be detained by Vasili Rugorsky, who placed a hand on his arm.
‘Mr Squire, I have great interest in what you say. Like you, I felt no patience with the dogmatic stance of the man from the Bundesrepublik. Can we have a brief chat, do you think?’
‘Of course. Can I buy you a coffee?’
‘That would be kind.’ The massive head nodded. ‘In my country, I would buy you a coffee, but you know that when we travel abroad we have to go penniless for the good of our souls.’ He smiled his sidelong smile at Squire. As they walked through the passage, Cantania came up and slapped Squire on the shoulder.
‘Not that I needed support, but thanks anyway for providing additional firepower.’
‘I wasn’t going to let your objection stand alone. All the same, I wish I’d kept my trap shut. It’s not the first time I have been out of step today.’
‘Keep it that way. What have you to fear? Except now Rugorsky’s going to tell you one more time they stopped prostitution in Moscow. Was she any beauty, by the way, the one who tried to pick you up?’
When Cantania had gone, Rugorsky said quietly, ‘I was not going to give you a lecture on prostitution.’
He fell into a frowning silence which Squire did not interrupt. The Russian had intensity of bearing which, coupled with the effort it afforded him to speak English, lent weight even to his silences. He moved through the crowds in the corridors with an impassive step, never impolitely, but never allowing himself to be deflected. Squire walked beside him without feeling it necessary to speak.
‘You see, the papers are quite entertaining if you listen properly,’ said Rugorsky at last. ‘Even when they are of themselves boring or trivial or totally mistaken. In a way, you see, they are what Hamlet said of the players, they are the abstracts and brief chronicles of our time. We must use them as we may.’
‘As you say, we get out of it what we can. Corporately, these men have a deal of power in academic life; by what is decided here, they can make or ruin reputations. The interest behind the boredom is that we are each of us on trial. The other apposite remark Hamlet made about the players was that it’s better to have a bad epitaph after you’re dead than their ill report while you live.’
Rugorsky said ‘Excuse, please,’ to one of the slender Italians who came forward with a beaming smile and ploughed by him in the direction of the bar. He took no notice of what Squire had just said. Either he had not fully heard and understood, or he was pursuing his own line of thought.
‘Let us return to the subject of prostitution,’ he said suddenly, applying a sly grin over his shoulder at Squire. ‘You see, you were not in such a perfect socialist state as China, which the West thinks so very well of just now.
‘Maybe you don’t need a lecture on why we in Russia feel it necessary to pretend we have vanquished such long-standing